Linger
by ValleyBliss
Summary: The first time Sakura cast a Genjutsu on herself had been an accident; the second time an experiment. But after coming to terms with her morally questionable new ability, every time thereafter had been for play... KakaSaku/Jutsu!Kakashi LEMON. Storyline to come.


I really wanted this to fit the atmosphere in my head, so expect repetition, run-on sentences and sentences that start with "And". Not how I usually write, but it's stylistic and hopefully gets the point across. May or may not be followed up with Kakashi's perspective of the whole thing, depends on all your lovely responses. Lets see if you can figure out the hint at the end...

Enjoy!

* * *

Prologue:

The first time Sakura cast a Genjutsu on herself had been an accident; the second time an experiment. But after coming to terms with her (morally questionable) new ability, every time thereafter had been for play. Never mind the first illusion had been cast without hand seals or conscious intention. (Her hands having been otherwise preoccupied.) What surprised her most was the intensity of detail she had not known herself capable of imagining. Smells, textures, temperatures, noises. Too many senses talking at once, roaming their input over her body in ways that made her too delirious to question what was happening till it was over. "Over" took a long, long time.

Afterwards, she would spend hours racking her mind for anything that might explain **what** had happened. Vivid daydream? Brain tumor? Sexy Genjutsu? Sexy alien abduction? Okay, maybe that last one didn't make sense. But it was _still_ more likely than what she was so sure had happened: The one and only Hatake Kakashi showin' up during her "Showery Fun Time" and taking her hard against the bathroom wall.

The details had been stunning too, right down to his white knuckled grip on her chrome towel bar. Stunning enough to make her want to just drop the detective act and hope "what-ever-it-was" happened again. Still, there had been a few telling factors, like coming to her senses hours later almost completely drained of chakra. Or, that despite clearly remembering locking lips with Kakashi for a solid 45 minutes, she could not, for the life of her, remember his face.

What the _fuck_.

Regardless, she would spend a whole week pretending the incident never happened, and only 1 off duty week-end trying to recreate it. Hell, apparently she wasn't a Genjutsu prodigy for nothing. And if it wasn't extremely embarrassing to begin with, she was sure it would be something worth rubbing in dumb ol' Sasuke's face. But for the time being, her secret would remain just that: A Secret. Later, it would teach her many things about Genjutsu, like how to sustain an illusion without blowing her chakra reserves. But it would also teach her a bit of truth too... It's far easier to cast a Genjutsu on yourself when you really, sincerely, desperately want it to be real.

Ch. 1 – Summer

It was days like this when the heat became unbearable. Heat that was long and unrelenting, that clung to her skin like it wanted something from her yet she had nothing to give. No motivation to work or be productive. It was the kind of heat that convinced you that mission papers could be filed tomorrow, and urgent matters quickly lost their urgency. Even the afternoon sunlight looked warm, tinting her walls with a soft orange glow so pretty it almost made the temperature bearable. It was times like this where she didn't need anything, but was content to sprawl shirtless on the hardwoods of her bedroom in the shadows of her headboard where the cool air lingered. And it was times like this when she slowly gave into the wanting, warm air from her floor fan circulating between her legs like an invitation.

The whole town was quiet, people counteracting heat with stillness, and it gave her a sense of quiet security that comes from feeling like the only person in the world. And the giving in was so easy, fingertips fluttering down her collar bone, traversing the landscape of her breasts. Lips parted in soft sighs, bare hints of the noises she usually only made in in her head. It was a day for slow, and slowly she went, the back of her head heavy on the floorboards as one hand graced its way between her legs. The balls of her feet press into the ground whenever she hits a sweet spot, and every now and then she pulls back her hand to lick the pads of her finger tips, to linger in the experience of slick strokes around her opening. There was no rushing, only the slow bobbing of her hips lifting into her palm, the condensation of body heat forming small beads of sweat above her left temple. There was just the giving up, the giving in and the breathy Ah's that escape when she lets them.

Once again, she wanted him.

The pull of chakra was nearly automatic now, and while her mind was busy spinning from the greatness of it all she spun her chakra into a simple illusion, though _that_ man was far from simple. Still, it showed in the way he simply walked into her bedroom like he was expected. Simple clothes, tender gaze, dark mask; no complications. His bare feet made no sound as he pushed off the doorway to kneel beside her, fingers intertwining with the hand above her head while the others brushed the bicep of the one still playing between her legs.

That hand moved to rest on her hip while his lips dipped down to mingle with her breath. Teeth tucked into the flesh of her jaw line despite his mask, but she threw back her chin exposing the length of her neck because it made sense in the nonsense way that dreams do. All the while, her fingers danced as he moved to straddle her right leg, the absence of rushing expressed in the slow drags of his tongue across her nipple. In the blowing of breath across her shoulder as if she were a birthday candle, and she was already coming undone.

Dragging fingers away from the slick heat between her legs to fist into the cotton of his shirt, she sighed deeply, and he drank her breath like it was another way of knowing her. Like his lips could tell him everything about about her he could understand. She made no protest when he finally ended the kiss, followed the curve of her side with his knuckles to grip the back of her knee and murmur incoherencies across the plane of her belly. When he shifted away to swirl his tongue into the crook of her hip and then he was kissing her, surrounding her opening in ways tongues can not, but she moaned long and deep like her body was saying something she couldn't find the word for: _Yes_ or _Please_ or _Thank you._

He released the intertwining of their fingers and dragged his hands under her hips so her knees splayed to the side, her low back peeling off the floor to meet him half way. She was overcome by the slow building of sensation inside her, a mingling of chakra and blood pressure and circulating fans that touched her skin where ever he couldn't. It was the washing of the full breadth of his tongue over her clit, the needing and needless way she covered her eyes with her wrist, _Oh... _She wanted to let go.

Because she was building something she couldn't contain just by biting her lip, or threading her fingers through his hair. And as if he could read her mind, he knelt in front of her, dragging her hips up into his lap so he could slide his length inside her, burring his member up to the hilt. And Finally they rocked together like members of the same body, her soft high pitched mews floating to collect in the corners of her ceiling. _This_ was the secret inside her that begged her attention.

Kakashi plunged himself deep inside her, pressed their hips close as if she might disappear, and rock, rock, rocked them into completion. It was like sharing breath, twin moans escaping their lips in charming unison before he rest his chest on hers, her heart beat pounding easily between the two of them. It was in the open mouthed kisses and the tangled limbs, but it was in the coming down from the high of him that she remembered.

So when he sat up, still hidden inside her, making no move to look away, she stretched her hand up to brush his cheek, thumb fingering the mask that was there but wasn't.

And it was times like this when the doubt betrayed her. When maybe, she thought, this wasn't what she really wanted after all... But he didn't pull away from her hand, so she stayed too. And it was times like this when she wondered if reality was ever this simple. Simple as a desire worth giving into. As a hand on a secret that is not yours to reveal. She closes her eyes and lets go of his mask, and when she inhales he's gone, except for the sound of him leaving.

* * *

So what did you think ducklings? My first lemon ever! (Might explain why it's so short and semi depressing...) Anyway, PLEASE review and let me know if this style made any sense. I really enjoyed writing for you c:


End file.
